Take Two

  “A short film. It’s for a class, but I have connections. If I get the right people to star in it, we might win some awards.” He stood, his eyes dancing. “It’d look great on your résumé.”

  A hint of a thrill ran down her spine. A short film with her as the star? That would be way better experience than extra work. Maybe then her dad would take her dreams of an acting career seriously. At least she would have something to show an agent or a director. She tossed her blonde hair over her shoulder and took the letter. “Thanks for thinking of me.”

  He laughed. “Are you kidding? You would be amazing.”

  The flattery felt good.

  In the distance she saw Bailey make her way toward the table, so she hurried her next words. “How do I reach you?”

  “Everything’s in there,” Taz nodded at the envelope. His smile was friendly, confident bordering on cocky. He gave her shoulder a quick, light touch, and his eyes connected with something in hers. “See you tonight.” With that he was gone, moving through the crowd in the direction he’d come.

  A few seconds later, Bailey reached the table and sat down, breathless from the cold air outside. Six inches of snow covered the Indiana campus, and another foot was forecast for the weekend. The perfect backdrop for Scrooge.

  Bailey looked at Taz as he reached the cafeteria door. “Who was that?”

  “Some guy in my science class.” Andi still had the envelope in her hand. “I guess he’s a film student.” She lifted the envelope. “He gave me this.”

  “What is it?”

  “An offer to star in a movie he’s making.”

  “Really?” Bailey took off her coat and gloves and settled in closer to the table. Her eyes sparkled and she looked relaxed and comfortable. Not even a little nervous about opening night. “Well … come on! Open it.”

  Andi shared everything with Bailey. Whatever the offer inside the envelope, she was glad her roommate was excited for her. She slipped her finger beneath the sealed flap and pulled out a single piece of paper, then slid her chair around the side of the table so she and Bailey could read it together.

  ” ‘Dear Andi,’” she read aloud. “’My name is Taz Bazzi, and I’m in your science class. I’m making a movie — a short film, really — and I’d like you to consider starring in it.’”

  “Andi!” Bailey grabbed hold of Andi’s wrist. “That’s fantastic. Lots of actresses get their start in short films.”

  “Seriously?”

  “Yes. For sure.” Bailey looked back at the paper. “How’d he know you could act?”

  “He saw me working on The Last Letter and he knows my dad’s a producer. At least that’s what he said.” Andi continued reading. “‘I’ve been looking for the perfect girl for the role, and for awhile now I’ve known it was you. So here’s a little bit about my film. It’s sort of a docudrama about a conflicted girl trapped by her parents’ outdated rules and understanding.’”

  Andi gave a nervous laugh. “That’s a little close to home.”

  “Keep reading.”

  She found her place. “’The girl’s parents think she’s at college, but she takes a quarter off and finds her way to the streets. She tries a lot of dangerous and edgy things before realizing that her place is here, back on campus.’” That was the end of the summary. The rest was Taz’s contact information.

  “Does she ever work things out with her mom and dad?” Bailey sounded less enthusiastic than before.

  “Doesn’t say.” Andi turned the paper over, but it was blank on the back. She flipped it again and found his contact information, and then for the first time saw a few lines in small print at the bottom of the page. It told her they could set up a screening time and that the shooting schedule could be worked around her availability. The very last line was something Andi couldn’t bring herself to read out loud.

  Some partial nudity required.

  Bailey peered over Andi’s shoulder and read the fine print at the same time. “Partial nudity?” Bailey pushed back from table. “Creepy guy. Probably not even a film student. Just a porn freak.”

  Andi was bothered by the partial nudity thing, but she wasn’t as upset as Bailey. Partial meant a few shots in her bra and underwear. Something like that. Besides, film was art. Wasn’t that what the actors on her father’s set had talked about? Sometimes compromise was necessary in order to get a message across …

  Her eyes moved to the bottom of the page where a website was listed. She folded the paper and put it back in the envelope. “At least he was upfront.”

  “Yeah.” Bailey’s laugh was filled with disbelief. “Because he wants a look at your front. Don’t you get it? The guy’s probably making a soft porn film and somehow I get the feeling you’re flattered.”

  She was, but she didn’t want to say so to Bailey. Her roommate had connections like megastar Dayne Matthews and his actress wife, Katy Hart Matthews. What did Andi have? A dad who was more missionary than moviemaker and whose first film might never find its way out of DVD Land. If she wanted to be an actress, Taz was right. She needed all the experience she could get.

  She slipped the envelope through the opening at the top of her backpack and smiled at Bailey. “I’m scared to death about tonight.”

  “Wait.” Bailey leaned forward, more intense than before. “You’re not considering that? Tell me you’ll throw it in the first trashcan.”

  “I wanna check out his website.” Andi kept her tone even, as if her calmness might make Bailey see that she was overreacting. “I owe him that much.”

  Bailey’s eyes flashed. “You don’t owe him anything. Come on, Andi. Show up to read for a guy like that and you could be raped.”

  “Please.” Andi managed a light-hearted laugh. “If I was going to do it, I wouldn’t meet with just him. There’d be other people and it would have to be somewhere on campus.”

  Another shocked sound came from Bailey. “You can’t be serious? You’re actually considering this? Even with the nudity?”

  “Partial nudity. Like in a bikini or bra or something.”

  “So you’re going to do it?”

  “Well …” Andi hesitated. Only one right answer remained. “Of course not. I’m just saying I should respond to him. Let’s drop it, okay?”

  “Tell him no.”

  “All right, all right.” Andi wanted to say that she’d tell him whatever she wanted and Bailey could just get used to the idea.

  But she was pretty sure she wouldn’t take the job, anyway, so it didn’t matter. “Talk about tonight. Are you scared?”

  “No.” Bailey looked like she was struggling to transition from her disapproval to the play they were about to star in. She busied herself with her gloves and then stopped and found the beginning of a smile. “You’ll be great, Andi. You don’t have to be afraid.”

  “So you’re really not?”

  “Not at all.” Gradually Bailey softened, and the smile returned to her eyes. “There’s nothing like opening night. The packed house, the buzz of anticipation backstage, the orchestra warming up for the first performance.”

  Andi felt her stomach tighten again. “What if I get out there and forget my lines?”

  “You won’t.” Bailey laughed. “The adrenaline rush actually makes you think more clearly. Remember your audition?”

  The two of them and Tim Reed had auditioned in a group, each performing in front of the creative team separately. “I was scared then too.”

  “And you were brilliant.” Bailey shrugged. “You’ll be brilliant tonight too.”

  Bailey’s confidence was contagious. By the time they left the cafeteria, two things had happened. First, Andi’s nervousness had faded to nothing more than excited energy. And second, Bailey had forgotten about Taz and his offer. At least it seemed that way. But after classes when Andi reached the dorm, Bailey was already there, sitting cross-legged on her bed reading her Bible.

  “Hey.” Andi tossed her backpack on the floor near her dresser. It was snowing again
, and she dusted off the shoulders of her coat as she peeled it off and threw it on the end of her bed.

  “Hey.” Bailey looked up, but only briefly.

  “What’re you reading?”

  “Romans 12. ‘Do not conform any longer to the pattern of this world, but be transformed by the renewing of your mind.’”

  She closed the Bible and anchored her elbows on her knees. “That section.”

  Andi knew it well. “Why that?”

  “I don’t know.” Bailey sighed. “Just thinking about that Taz guy and his crazy offer. It’s weird how people think they can do anything as long as they label it ‘art.’ Anything at all.”

  The sentiment was something Andi’s father had said in the weeks leading up to his decision to leave the mission field for a career as a producer. He wanted to redefine art, take things way above the line from where they were. Andi wasn’t so sure. She could see merit in some of the movies her parents disliked. She was pretty sure she and Bailey wouldn’t see eye to eye on this, so she said nothing. Instead she busied herself with removing her gloves and scarf and setting them on the edge of her desk.

  Bailey watched her. After this long as roommates and friends, they kept few secrets from each other. “You’re thinking about it, aren’t you?”

  “About what?” Andi forced herself to look innocent.

  “You know what.” Bailey hugged her knees. “The film. The one with the nudity.”

  “Partial nudity.” Andi had run out of busy work. She dropped to the edge of her bed, her shoulders a notch lower than before. “I think maybe I disagree a little.”

  “Disagree?”

  “About the whole ‘art’ thing.” Andi had been honest about her unconventional feelings before. She couldn’t stop now if she wanted to stay close with Bailey. “Sometimes partial nudity might be valid for the sake of art, don’t you think?”

  “Not at all.” There was no anger in Bailey’s voice. The intensity from earlier in the day was gone, and in its place was a peace, a glow that seemed to come from deep inside her soul. But there was no hesitation, either. “Our bodies are sacred to God, the temple of the Holy Spirit. We’re supposed to treat them with respect.”

  The truth came straight from the Bible. Andi knew that much. She pushed her fingers through her hair and tried to find an explanation that would make sense. “The body is a beautiful thing. Maybe it’s honoring it to put the body in a more visible light.” She stretched out on her side and leaned up on one elbow. “Or maybe if a film shows the terrible things that can happen to someone who makes bad decisions, and if that film requires partial nudity to get the point across, then maybe that’s honoring. Because maybe it’ll teach some teenaged girl not to make those same bad choices.”

  “Come on, Andi.” Bailey raised one eyebrow. “You must be kidding.”

  That was the trouble. She wasn’t kidding. Not that she was ready to sign up as the lead in Taz’s film. She needed more information, like where the film would be shot and who would be there and whether it was truly a class project and how much nudity and whether it was in full light or only silhouetted.

  “See, that’s what I thought. You’re seriously considering it.” Bailey sounded worried. “Andi, you know better than that. I could give you a hundred Bible verses that would prove making that film would be a mistake. Romans is a good place to start.”

  “That’s just it.” Andi sat up again. “The pattern of the world interests me. I’m just being honest. I’m not saying I don’t want to be a Christian, but … I don’t know. I want to experience life. Not avoid it.”

  For a long while Bailey didn’t say anything. Then she stood, crossed the room, and sat down next to Andi. They both turned so they were facing each other. “I’m not going to judge you, Andi. But let’s at least pray, okay? There’s a lot going on.”

  “Sure.” Andi didn’t mind praying. She still liked the idea that God was there, that He cared about what she did or didn’t do. But that didn’t change her desire to experience life — in a safe manner, anyway. All of life. Maybe not by getting drunk at frat parties or by putting herself in dangerous situations. But acting in the short film of a student at Indiana University? Actually starring in it? The idea sounded more attractive with every passing hour.

  Bailey seemed to sense Andi had made up her mind, but she said nothing about it. Instead she took hold of Andi’s hands and began talking to God in a way that was familiar and comforting. She prayed about their opening night, that they would remember the words, and that the audience would be packed with people. “Let them see the meaning in the story, Lord,” she added. “The message of regret for people who don’t make the most of every day they’ve been given.”

  Her prayer moved on then to the movie offer from Taz. “The world will always have what looks like a better offer.” Her voice was kinder still, without a drop of accusation. “Help us see life through Your eyes, Father. So that we know when the world is trying to mislead us. We need Your help, or we’ll be … Well, we’ll be like people without faith. And that would be a very sad loss, Lord. Thank You for listening. In Jesus’ name, amen.”

  Andi appreciated the prayer and the way moments like this made her and Bailey closer. But she still wondered if Taz was serious, if he and his roommates were really going to be at the show tonight. And if they were, she wondered if they would wait for her afterward. If so, then maybe she could ask him her questions in person. At least then she’d have all the information.

  They both turned their attention to getting ready. Their characters needed long, curled hair — so they stood in front of the small mirror and shared Bailey’s curling iron, passing it back and forth and spritzing hairspray as they went. They were just putting on their coats and gloves again when Andi got a text. Her first thought was Taz. Maybe he’d gotten her number and now he was texting her, looking for her answer. But as she reached for her phone, she saw she was wrong. The text was from Cody.

  HEY, ANDI. WANTED YOU TO KNOW I’LL BE THERE TONIGHT. I’M TAKING MY MOM. CAN’T WAIT TO SEE IT. BREAK A LEG!

  She grinned at the phone and her heart soared. She hurried with her response.

  YAY! I’M GLAD YOU’RE GOING, BUT DON’T LOOK AT ME DURING MY SONG. LOL. I MIGHT FORGET THE WORDS AND RUN DOWN TO JOIN YOU IN THE AUDIENCE.

  Andi couldn’t figure out Cody Coleman. Times like this she was almost certain he had feelings for her, which would be amazing. There was no one she’d rather date than Cody. He was the hottest guy she knew, but more than that he had a wisdom, a faith that was borne of real-life experience and a genuine need for God. The kind of faith Andi wished she had.

  “Who’re you texting?” Bailey wrapped her thick wool scarf around her neck and chin. The air temperature outside was already in the low teens.

  “Cody.” Andi tried not to feel guilty, but she did. Whenever she and Cody texted, things felt a little awkward with Bailey. “He’ll be at the show.”

  Bailey’s eyes flickered, proof that the news clearly registered somewhere inside her. But nothing in her expression told whether she felt grateful or upset by the fact. Bailey grabbed her bag and headed for the door. “Did he say anything else?”

  “Yeah. He’s coming with his mom.”

  For a second, Bailey stopped and looked over her shoulder. “You know Cody’s mom?”

  “No.” Andi wrinkled her nose, confused by the question. “Why would I know her?”

  Bailey shrugged. “Just seemed like he wouldn’t tell you that unless you knew her.”

  “I know she’s had a rough life. Been in prison, drugs, that sort of thing. Cody says he’s trying to build a new relationship with her.”

  This time there was no mistaking the hurt in Bailey’s eyes. “Great.” She checked her watch. “We better go.”

  They decided to drive because the theater was on the other side of campus and even a five-minute walk wouldn’t be easy in the freezing-cold snow and wind. On the way to the car, and then to the theater, Bailey talked abo
ut her costume and Tim’s nervousness about playing Scrooge. She touched on how she might take a break from theater after this quarter and the struggle she was having in her harder classes. But Cody’s name didn’t come up again.

  Andi tried to assess Bailey’s response to Cody, her seeming lack of interest. All along she had told herself that Cody had feelings for Bailey, that the two of them were only kidding each other by keeping their distance and maintaining that they’d never seen each other as more than friends. Anyone around the two of them could feel the chemistry there. But watching her now, Andi wondered if she might have read Bailey wrong. Maybe Bailey really didn’t have feelings for Cody. She was still dating Tim, after all.

  They ran into the theater, using their backpacks to shield their curly hair from the snow, and Andi was suddenly overcome with a rush of joy and exhilaration. Life was actually going right for her. She was truly living — living in a way that she wished her friend Rachel Baugher might’ve lived. Rachel, who died in a car accident without ever realizing her dreams. That wouldn’t be Andi. She was going to live here and now, without reservations.

  She ran through the list of all that was right in her life. She was about to star in her first musical, and she was being asked to star in her first movie — and it was a movie. Short film or not. On top of all that, maybe Cody did like her after all. The possibility seemed so real she could almost see the two of them together, holding hands and laughing. Bailey wouldn’t care. At least it seemed that way.

  And for the first time every dream she’d ever had seemed within reach.

  She could hardly wait for the curtain to go up.

  Eight

  BAILEY COULDN’T EXPLAIN THE HURT CONSUMING her heart. This was opening night, and she wanted everything about it to be a celebration. She was sharing the stage with Tim, a guy she admired and respected. In the audience would be her parents and brothers, along with some of their friends. Katy and Dayne had bought a block of tickets in the center orchestra section, so they’d be there, along with Ashley and Landon and the boys and a few of the other Baxter sisters and their families. Everyone Bailey loved.